


Friends, Enemies, and Other Romantic Problems (or, The Trials and Tribulations of Dating Your Coworker)

by wintermute



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, BAMF!Phil, Corporate AU, Featuring, M/M, Meddling Friends, Meet-Cute, Natasha's scary Russian-ness, Smart!Clint, and gratuitous sex scene, random appearances of Tracksuit Mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:07:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2782580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintermute/pseuds/wintermute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Why haven’t you asked him out yet? He’s clearly as into you as you are into him.”</i> </p><p>
  <i>Phil rolled his eyes. His friends meant well but they could be a little annoying sometimes. “You don’t know that. Clint is just… being friendly. He flirts with everyone.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“That’s not what Natasha said,” Maria chortled. “According to her, someone wouldn’t shut up about a certain Chief of Security.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Natasha is biased, and you’re delusional. Tell your girlfriend to stop gossiping about me.” Phil had many regrets in his life; two of them were ever knowing Maria Hill and Nick Fury.</i>
</p><p>For Phil, being Chief of Security of Stark Industries is hard enough without his nosy co-workers trying to stage an intervention of his love life. Throw some mafia problems into the mix and things really start to get interesting.</p><p>It really is a good thing that Phil has some mad ninja skills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends, Enemies, and Other Romantic Problems (or, The Trials and Tribulations of Dating Your Coworker)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weepingnaiad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingnaiad/gifts).



> Written for Lump of Coul 2014
> 
> Special thanks to SomebodyOwens for beating this fic into submission, and amireal for helping with the title.

“Hold the elevator!”

Phil instinctively held out his arm against the closing doors, just as a blur of brown and dark blue stumbled through the door. Phil put his arm down and watched amusedly as the guy slumped against the back of the elevator, sliding down just a little, running a hand through his already tousled hair while trying to get his breathing under control. His other hand was clutching a tablet and a bunch of paper tubes.

“Thanks man,” the guy said after he’d calmed down a little, and looked up. “Oh, hey! Coulson.”

“Barton.” Phil smiled as he subtly checked Clint out. He was wearing his usual brown leather jacket, even though it was a touch too cold out this morning. Under the jacket was a soft-looking grey sweater over dark jeans that fit like a glove.

“Thanks again for the…” Clint pointed at the door. It was then that Phil noticed that there were a couple of bandages on Clint’s knuckles and a butterfly bandage high on his forehead, just below the hairline. He swallowed down the urge to ask about it. It wasn’t the first time that Clint had shown up to work looking slightly banged up, but Phil didn’t think it was appropriate to ask about it. They were only work acquaintances after all.

“No problem. Traffic?”

“Nah. Subway. I even left early today because there’s a big meeting with Fury, but the damn train wouldn’t come.” Clint blew out a heavy sigh with a hang-dog expression. “I didn’t even get a chance to grab a coffee yet.”

“Oh noes,” Phil said, deadpanned, and Clint grinned at him. “Well, if you’re really desperate, come by our floor later. I’m sure Skye can help hook you up.”

“Really?” The look in Clint’s eyes would be well worth the ribbing Phil was going to get from his IT girl later. “You’re a saint, Phil Coulson, don’t let anyone tell you different. Tony took apart our cappuccino machine last week for some reason and it’s still sitting in pieces. Bruce was looking a bit green and very ready to punch something by the end of yesterday because of lack of proper chai latte.”

The elevator dinged, signally the arrival at Phil’s floor. “Well, this is me. I’ll see you around?”

“Sure, yeah. Later Coulson!” Clint gave him a small wave and a bright smile. Phil waved back and waited until the doors were closed before turning towards his office.

“You are pathetic, you know that?” The voice behind him stopped him.

“Good morning to you too, Maria.” Phil sighed.

“Why haven’t you asked him out yet? He’s clearly as into you as you are into him.”

Phil rolled his eyes. His friends meant well but they could be a little annoying sometimes. “You don’t know that. Clint is just… being friendly. He flirts with everyone.”

“That’s not what Natasha said,” Maria chortled. “According to her, someone wouldn’t shut up about a certain Chief of Security.”

“Natasha is biased, and you’re delusional. Tell your girlfriend to stop gossiping about me.” Phil had many regrets in his life; two of them were ever knowing Maria Hill and Nick Fury.

“I’m just saying. I bet if you just asked him out on a date, he wouldn’t say no.”

“No bets. My love life, or the lack thereof, is none of your business, and not something to bet on,” Phil said, giving Maria a look that implied exactly he would do if she even thought about it, before turning on his heels to continue the journey to his office.

“Whatever you say, boss.” Maria called after him.

~*~

“What the hell happened to you?”

Clint lifted his head just enough to show that he’d heard Tony before mumbling something into his arms.

“Did you understand a word of that?” Tony turned to ask Natasha, who walked into the large conference room right behind him and Bruce.

“He said that it was all your fault that there is no caffeine, and that it’s none of your business.”

“It’s freaky how you could understand that.” Tony gave her a look before sauntering to the front of the room and setting up the displays. “And I needed a part and the cappuccino machine had that part. I’ll fix it. Eventually.”

“You mean Pepper will get fed up with our complaints and buy a new one,” Bruce added wryly.

It was right then that Fury, the Chief of Operations, swept in the door, followed by Steve, Thor and Pepper.

“Okay, people! What have you got for me?”

It was well into late morning before the meeting adjourned and finally gave Clint a chance to sneak down one floor to beg for some good caffeine. He was still crooning about the virtues of the rich brew when he heard the footsteps behind him. He turned around to find Coulson standing at the door, smirking at him.

“I see you’ve found the coffee maker.”

“Your coffee maker is amazing. I want to take her home. I promise to be good to her,” Clint replied wistfully. He was well aware of how weird that sounded, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Coulson chuckled, and it was the most glorious sound Clint’d ever heard.

“Well, I hope you weren’t planning on hogging the coffee at least?”

“Of course not.” Clint held out the carafe for Coulson, who took it gingerly and poured himself a cup. Clint watched the older man surreptitiously the entire time.

He could feel Coulson’s eyes on him as they sat and drank their coffees, assessing or studying, and it made him feel just a bit self-conscious. He knew that he looked like a mess, with all the bandages and obvious bruises that meant he’d been in a bad fight. It wasn’t like he went looking for trouble; the tracksuit mafia that had been harassing his neighbours had come around again and he had to step in before one of his neighbours got hurt. He was thankful Coulson didn’t start asking questions after looking him over.

“I should get back to work,” Clint said finally, after he’d drained the last drop in his cup and run out of reasons to stay. “Thanks for the coffee, man.”

“My pleasure,” Coulson replied, his face as bland as ever, but Clint’s sharp eyes could see the hint of a smile.

Clint all but ran back to the R&D floor.

It wasn’t that he had a problem with people knowing about his mafia thing; Natasha knew, and she’d offered more than once to let him use her “Russian connection” to fix things. Tony’s solution had been to throw money at it, until Bruce helped Clint convince him that money wasn’t going to change anything—it would probably only make it worse. Rather, it was that Clint didn’t want Coulson to know, because he didn’t want to Coulson to get involved and get hurt.

Although, Coulson could probably beat the crap out of those jerkfaces better than Clint could. He was the one with the military background after all.

“How’s the coffee in the Security break room?”

Clint did _not_ scream like a little girl at the sound of Natasha’s voice. Nope. “Do you have to sneak up on me like that?”

Natasha arched an eyebrow, and Clint pouted at her.

“Why don’t you just ask him out already?” she asked, knowing exactly why Clint was in the break room downstairs.

“Because! Coulson is… Coulson, and I’m so far out of his league we’re not even playing the same sport!” Clint sighed. “There is no way he’d be interested in a fuck up like me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “You’re an Ivy League graduate who Tony Stark personally asks opinions from. You work for Stark Industries, one of the largest R&D firms on the East Coast. What part of that makes you out of his league?”

Clint huffed. “You know what I mean. Maybe I’ve done well for myself lately but I’ll never be one of those people who can schmooze with people at cocktail parties. I’m not… fancy, not like he is.”

“He might look all GQ in his Dolce, but if he can’t look beyond your past at the person you are underneath, then he doesn’t deserve you.” Natasha reached out and stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Clint, you deserve to have someone who loves you. Maybe Coulson’s that guy, maybe not, but you won’t know until you make a move.”

“You make it sound so easy, Tasha.”

“Well, it is.” Natasha nodded towards the empty coffee mug in Clint’s hand with a smirk before sauntering off in the opposite direction. “Ask him out for coffee.”

“Not helping!” Clint called after her to no avail.

~*~

Watching Clint practically run out of the break room, Phil sighed. At least Clint didn’t seem uncomfortable—or worst, scared. More than a few people had accused Phil of being too intense. Although, he did notice Clint giving him stealthy glances so maybe there was something to what Maria said.

Phil didn’t get a chance to do anything, because he’d been sent to do some high level security audits at one of the manufacturing facilities right after lunch. By the time he dragged his tired body home, a week had gone by.

The next day, Clint was already waiting for the elevator when Phil came through the lobby.

“Coulson! You’re back!” Clint greeted happily as they entered the elevator. “I heard you were on some big audit.”

“Skye needs to stop blabbing.” Phil shook his head.

“Aw, come on, Coulson.” Clint looked at him with eyes that Phil could only describe as puppy dog eyes. “She fed me caffeine while you were away. She’s allowed to vent at me as much as she wants. You know I wouldn’t say anything.”

Phil chuckled. “I know.”

They spent the rest of the elevator ride in silence, only occasionally glancing towards one another before looking away at the door or the jumping numbers. After catching Clint looking at him again, Phil made up his mind.

“Listen, Barton… uhm, Clint?”

“Hmm?”

“I… I uh, I was wondering…” Phil stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. “Are you free tonight?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to grab dinner? Together?” Phil said, feeling his face heat as it dawned on Clint what he was asking.

“You mean, dinner as in a date?” The look on Clint’s face as he spoke could only be described as awed.

“If you’d like?” Phil resisted the urge to rub at the back of his neck.

“Of course! I mean, yes, I’d love to have dinner with you,” Clint said quickly, grinning with his eyes wide.

“Great,” Phil grinned back, feeling a little like he was sixteen again and had just asked the boy of his dreams to prom. “I’ll text you with a place. Seven o’clock okay?”

“Yeah.” Clint nodded.

The elevator dinged just then, startling them both. Phil watched as Clint looked away shyly, and reached over to to stroke Clint’s jaw before he thought better of it. Instead, he gave a slightly awkward pat on his arm instead. “I’ll see you then?”

Clint nodded. “Yeah. Later.”

Phil pulled away reluctantly and stepped out just before the doors closed. Feeling better than he had all week, he turned to head to his office and deal with all the paperwork that had piled up in his absence.

Two hours later, he’d gotten a good portion of work done, and decided to take a quick coffee break. Maybe it had to do with scoring a hot date with Clint, but Phil was feeling fantastic even with all the work he still had to go through.

“You’re… oddly cheerful for someone who just came back from a work trip,” Melinda commented after taking one look at him as he stepped into the break room.

“Hmm?” Phil gave her the bland work-smile he usually used when he didn’t want to answer a question.

Melinda just arched an unimpressed eyebrow at him, silently telling him that she wasn’t buying any of his bullshit. “Spill.”

Phil just kept smiling as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Melinda glared at him for a moment before something clicked. “Oh lord, you scored a date with Barton, didn’t you?”

It was Phil’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “How the hell did you figure that out?”

“Because you’re literally vibrating,” Melinda rolled her eyes. “No one in their right mind would be this giddy coming back from a work trip. No. One.”

Phil huffed. “I can’t just be having a good day?”

“Right, like anyone would believe that.” Melinda refilled her mug before rinsing off the carafe and setting it to brew another pot. “Good, though. Maria owes me fifty bucks.”

“You guys bet on me?” Phil scowled at her as she left. “And only fifty? I feel like I should be insulted.”

Exasperated at his coworker’s antics, Phil made his way back to his office, then spent his entire break on Yelp looking for a good place to take Clint. He wanted somewhere cozy, not too uptight. Somewhere they could relax and just get to know each other better.

His phone buzzed with an incoming text. It was from Melinda.

_Take him to Charcoal. He’ll enjoy the baby back ribs._

Phil couldn’t decide between being grateful for Melinda or wanting to headdesk himself.

 _You and Maria are way too invested in my love life_ , Phil texted back.

_Someone needs to lest you die a lonely old fart - MH_

_Just say thanks - MM_

_Thanks, you two._

Phil quickly texted the place to Clint after making a reservation, then settled down to continue working. Half an hour later, his phone buzzed again with a text from Clint.

_I totally just realized that I didn’t have your number._

Phil chuckled and texted back. _Well, now you do._

_How do you even know my number?_

_I’m the chief of security. I know everyone’s number._

_You’re secretly a ninja aren’t you?_

_What if I am? Btw, how’s the plan sound? I’ll come by your floor._

_Plan sounds good. See you at 7. And your secret ninja ways are super hot._

Phil felt his face heat at the flirty text, and resisted texting back.

He didn’t know how he managed to concentrate on work for the rest of the day. By the time he surfaced, it was already quarter after six. He suspected it was an unconscious effort to finish as much as possible so if he wanted to, say, take a day off tomorrow, he could.

Not that he would. Phil Coulson was a gentleman after all.

He packed up his desk, left instructions for his PA Darcy to take care of filing the next morning, and went upstairs to find Clint in R&D.

Clint was still in the large conference room with Tony huddling over some schematics too complicated for Phil to follow. Phil let his eyes wander over the taut line of Clint’s back and legs, wrapped in his usual casual clothes that fit him like a glove. It was a wonder how Clint could make the t-shirt and jeans combo look like he’d just stepped off a runway.

Something alerted Clint, who looked up then smiled when he spotted Phil.

“Hey!” Clint greeted, straightening up. “You’re early.”

“I was done early. Thought I’d come see if you want to head over now, or if you need to finish things up here.” Phil shrugged.

“I’m mostly done. Just going over some things with Tony and picking each other’s brain on a few ideas,” Clint said, smiling as he moved closer. Phil wanted to pull him into a kiss right there in the hallway.

“Well, we could get drinks at the bar if we get there too early?” Phil suggested.

“Sounds good. Let me grab my things?”

~*~

Clint hadn’t had such a great time on a date since… well, since ever. He hadn’t dated much, and his past relationships were mostly the type where he fell into bed with someone and it lasted for a while before inevitably imploding. Being on a date with someone like Coulson was… refreshing.

Coulson—Phil, because you can’t date someone and not call them by their first name—was the perfect date. He was funny, he liked all the same things Clint did, and their opinions on cars and music were so matched Clint would’ve believed that someone read his preferences and made the perfect person just for him. They’d ended up sharing a chocolate torte that had Phil purring in a way that made Clint half hard just listening to it.

When Clint had tried to pay his half, Phil had simply told him that he could do that the next time.

Next time. Their date wasn’t even over and there was already a next time. Clint tried to wrap his head around that the entire way back to his place.

Phil, being the gentleman he was, insisted on giving Clint a lift home, even if the subway would be just as convenient. It wasn’t until they were standing at the front door and Clint was opening the door and pondering asking Phil to come upstair that things started going wrong.

“Hey, Bro!” Clint tensed at the sound of the familiar phrase. “You hurt my cousin the other day, Bro. Nobody hurts my cousin.”

Clint sighed, ducking out from behind Phil to face the man in yet another tracksuit. Didn’t these guys ever wear anything else? “First of all, he hit me first. Second of all, he was harassing my neighbour and I stopped him. He got what he deserved,” Clint said, firmly, adding a “bro” after a brief moment.

“You hurt him, I hurt you, Bro.” Of Course. Why did Clint thought it would be any other way?

“Phil, go. I need to take care of this.”

“What?” Phil looked at him like Clint had sprouted extra limbs. “Hell, no.”

“Seriously. These guys don’t mess around.” Clint said, keeping his eyes on the big guy, peripheral vision picking out the small group of similarly attired goons advancing towards them. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’d like to see them try,” Phil scoffed. “I _am_ ex-military, remember?”

Before Clint could say anything more, though, one of the goons gave a loud cry and came at him with a baseball bat. Clint did his best to duck, and to attack the guy’s wide open mid section.

Two more guys swarmed him, and Clint lost track of Phil, concentrating instead on the fists and legs that were flying at him from all directions.

It took a while, but they fought off all of the goons, leaving them whimpering and rolling on the ground and only the head guy standing.

“Take your friends and go. And don’t come back here.” Clint rolled his wrist, checking to make sure he didn’t sprain anything.

“Motherfu—!” The big guy yelled and charged him, ending up on the ground with his hands around his throat in the blink of an eye. Clint stared, eyes wide, at the way Phil had just taken a guy with fifty pounds on him down like a sack of potatoes.

“When you said ninja, you really meant that,” was all Clint could respond with, watching as the tracksuit mafia ran away with their injured.

Phil moved towards Clint, telegraphing every move so he wouldn’t spook him. “You okay?”

“I’m… I’m fine, I think?” Clint sighed. “I’m sorry. About getting you involved. This is probably not what you had in mind when you asked me out on a date.”

“Not really, but I didn’t mind,” Phil shrugged. “Not the first time I’ve been mistaken for an easy mark. It is New York after all.”

“Mugger would’ve been easier,” Clint said, breathing out a heavy sigh.

“Who are they? You said something about them harassing people?” Phil asked, but Clint could hear the reluctance in his voice.

“They…” Clint took a deep breath, letting it out carefully. No broken ribs was a good thing. “Come on. I’ll explain when we’re inside.”

Phil followed him silently up the stairs, through the door and the living room into the bathroom. Clint snagged a couple of wash cloths from the closet and handed one to Phil. He began talking as they cleaned themselves up.

“They’re with the mafia, some dumb thugs who think too highly of themselves.” Clint winced as he dabbed at the blood congealing over his split lips, sneaking surreptitious glances at Phil as he did so. “I accidentally stumbled onto their scheme to extort rent from the tenants and to use the building to launder money, so I started to keep an eye on the place, making sure my neighbours were safe.

“And I guess I kinda painted a giant bullseye on my back, and every now and then they come looking for trouble.” Clint let his head drop, holding himself up over the sink. “I’m sure you’ve wondered about the cuts and bruises.”

“It… wasn’t my place to ask,” Phil said quietly. “I had wondered, but I didn’t want to ask anything you weren’t ready to share.”

“Kinda don’t have choice, here.” Clint gave him a wry smile.

“I’m sorry.” Phil reached out, putting his hand on Clint’s shoulder, and squeezed lightly.

Clint shook his head, trying to not lean into the touch. He was pretty sure he was failing. “It’s okay. It’s probably better this way. I’ll understand if you don’t want to do this anymore.”

“What?” Phil’s hand tightened around his shoulder. “No. What are you talking about?”

Clint looked over at Phil. “I doubt this is what you’re looking for in a relationship. Normal people would already be halfway out the door by now.”

“I’m not normal people,” Phil said defiantly. “I also happen to think that you’re well worth the effort.”

Clint blinked. “What?”

“Clint, you’re smart, and funny—and not to mention incredibly hot. You _care_ about people, or you wouldn’t be defending your neighbours and getting beaten up for it. You have a kind heart and you like the same eclectic things I do.” Phil reached out with his other hand to turn Clint towards him. “I like you for who you are, Clint. All I care about is you getting hurt when you don’t have any backup going up against those thugs.”

Clint was speechless. He couldn’t think. “You really are perfect,” he said in a whisper.

Phil chuckled. “You’ll find that I’m not. I live like a bachelor and I throw socks everywhere. I eat too much take out, and never at a table.” He paused. “And did you say a relationship?”

Clint could feel his face heat and he didn’t need to look in a mirror to know how red his face must be. “Uhm.”

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Phil murmured, pulling him close by his neck, until their lips met in a chaste press against each other. Clint’s hands fell to Phil’s hips. He couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped his mouth at the feel of those warm lips against his and the electric jolt of want that surged through him as Phil licked into his mouth, claiming him.

“Phil…” Clint sighed against Phil’s lips when they finally pulled apart.

They spent a long moment wrapped up in each other, standing cheek-to-cheek in Clint’s bathroom still slightly bloody, and just… be.

“I should go,” Phil said, finally, pulling away only enough so he could look Clint in the eyes.

Clint nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Phil asked as Clint walked him to the door.

“Yeah.” Clint didn’t want Phil to go. He didn’t want Phil to leave and have the chance to think and change his mind.

Phil must’ve read something in his eyes, because he pulled Clint close again when they got to the door, leaning in for another toe-curling kiss. “I’m not going to change my mind,” Phil said, his face so close Clint could see the flecks of green in his blue eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Clint managed to work his lips into a small smile, watching Phil walk out the door. “Good night, Phil.”

~*~

The next few weeks were the happiest Phil’d ever been. Despite the rocky beginning, he and Clint grew more comfortable with each other, sharing tidbits when they were just lounging around watching TV to unwind for the evening.

There were also plenty of kisses and touches. Clint was so tactile, and Phil just couldn’t refuse his boyfriend (boyfriend!!) anything. They took things slow, with kisses and some heavy petting, and had only started rubbing off on each other on the couch the past few days. Phil didn’t mind taking it slow, but he was looking forward to when they finally took the last step.

It was Sunday, and Phil was just thinking about asking Clint if he wanted to go to a movie later when his phone rang.

“Clint?”

“Phil…”

Phil tensed at Clint’s voice. It was hoarse and nasally, making Clint sound small and lost. “Clint, are you okay?”

“Phil…”

“Where are you?”

“Home.”

“I’m coming right over. Don’t move.”

Phil made it to Clint’s place in half the normal time. He probably ran a bunch of lights and sped where he wasn’t supposed to, but he didn’t care because Clint needed him.

The building door was open. So was Clint’s front door. He stepped softly and nudged it open, checking to make sure there was no danger before stepping into the foyer.

He could immediately see what was wrong. Clint’s things were thrown everywhere, and the glass top of the coffee table had been shattered, littering the floor with shards of glass. Phil stepped carefully to where Clint was sitting on the ground in front of the TV, the screen smashed, hugging what looked like broken halves of the wooden bow that usually hung over the couch. The bow that Phil knew had a lot of sentimental value for Clint.

“Clint?”

“Phil?” Clint blinked up at him.

“What happened?” Clint seemed a little calmer now that he knew Phil was there, but Phil sat down next to him anyway after making sure the space was clear, letting Clint lean on him for comfort.

“It was like this when I got home,” Clint muttered. “I don’t think anything’s missing, but they broke everything.”

“Is it them?” Phil could only think of one group that would do something like this.

“I don’t know. There was a note but I didn’t read it. I can’t think of anyone else who would… oh god, Phil, they broke it.” He buried his face into Phil’s shoulder. “This is the only thing I have left from…”

“Ssh…” Phil hugged Clint close to him, swaying gently. “Are you hurt at all?”

Clint shook his head. “No.”

“Okay,” Phil said, making up his mind. “How about this? You grab a few things you need, and I’ll make a few calls for someone to come deal with this. You can stay with me tonight.”

Clint nodded, and lingered a few moments before leaving the broken pieces of the bow and going to pack a bag. Phil could feel his own anger bubbling close to the surface. This had gone too far.

He made a quick call to a friend at the precinct, asked them to come collect evidence, then made a call to Stark and Fury, explaining that he and Clint would both be taking the next day off. He sent off one last quick text to Maria and Natasha before sitting down to plot as he waited for Clint to reemerge.

Clint was quiet as they drove back to Phil’s place, only stopping to pick up some food on the way. They ate in silence, then curled up around each other on the couch with the TV turned down low.

Phil was running his fingers through Clint’s hair when his phone went off.

“Coulson.”

“Phil, it’s me,” Maria’s voice was tinny through the speaker. “I got your message. Skye’s tracing the money. Melinda and I are going through the records.”

“Good. Keep me updated.”

“Natasha wants to know if she needs to come over?”

“Hold on,” Phil turned to find Clint watching him. “Natasha’s offering to come over for a bit. Do you want her here?”

Clint worried at his bottom lip for a bit before nodding. “If you don’t mind?”

“Whatever you need, baby,” Phil dropped a kiss to the top of Clint’s head before going back on the phone. “Tell Natasha to come on over.”

“She’s on her way.” Maria said. “And Phil? Take care of him.”

“I will,” Phil promised, then cut the connection.

“What is it?” Clint asked, shifting slightly so he wasn’t crushing Phil with his weight.

“I texted them earlier. They’re putting together a dossier on those tracksuit-wearing friends of yours. We’re going to make them go away.”

“Phil, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind,” Phil said, brushing his thumb over the corner of Clint’s mouth. “Unless you don’t want me to, I’ll do everything in my power to protect you, and that includes dealing with those assholes.

“And Maria and the others are helping because they like you. You’re a friend in need. Tony’s already been chomping at the bit to buy your entire apartment building, and Pepper might just let him.” He brought Clint closer for a lingering kiss. “Clint, let us help you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

It took a moment, but Clint finally nodded and let himself sag into Phi’s arms. “I must’ve done something spectacularly good to deserve someone like you.”

Phil chuckled. “I could say the same.”

~*~

In the end, the tracksuit mafia folded like a bad poker hand. It was all very anti-climatic in Clint’s opinion.

Phil had strolled right into the bar they used as their headquarters and neatly taken down two goons who tried to stop him from going to the back table. It was hilarious to watch the eyes of the remaining tracksuits go wide and their movements freeze in fear of putting themselves in Phil’s line of sight.

Clint and Natasha had stood behind Phil as he sat down in front of the boss, and as soon as they’d seen the contents of the folder Phil slid over, plus gotten a good look at Natasha, their faces had turned a shade of green Clint’d never seen before. They’d mumbled something about not worth their trouble and let them leave without a fuss.

Apparently they _had_ been using the building to launder money, and there had been a RICO case against the organization. The information Phil had (obtained through somewhat nefarious means) could blow the case wide open if he ever leaked it to the FBI. Of course, the mafia decided to play nice.

Clint had gained a whole new level of respect that morning for Natasha’s scary Russian-ness, and for Phil’s level of badassery.

(The man didn’t even blink when the boss pulled out a gun and pointed straight at him, for fuck’s sake!)

And Tony? Of course he bought the building. And then made Clint the manager even though Clint kept telling him he didn’t have time to work for him _and_ manage a building. Tony didn’t seem to care too much about that. Crazy billionaire.

Clint couldn’t spare too much thought for crazy people with too much money to spare, though, since he was otherwise occupied. Naked. In bed. With Phil licking into him like he was dying of thirst and Clint the spring that would keep him alive.

Clint thought he’d known good sex—and thought he’d been having good sex—but Phil had since changed his worldview completely on that subject.

Case in point, Phil’s ability to make him orgasm with just his tongue and fingers.

“Oh… god, Phil, don’t stop,” Clint moaned loudly, his fingers digging deep into the soft bedding and clenching, hard, as Phil’s tongue thrust deep into his ass. Phil had spent a long while fingering Clint’s ass open so he was soft and loose for Phil to do whatever the hell he wanted. By the time Phil’s tongue licked into his hole, Clint was already begging for release. “Oh fuck! Phil! I’m so close! Just get into me, goddammit!”

“Hmm,” Phil let his tongue slip out and licked a long stripe up through Clint’s perineum to his balls, before biting into the softness of his inner thigh causing Clint to moan out loud. It was then that he heaved himself higher to kiss along Clint’s abs upto his sternum. “I’m not sure if I want you to come yet. I’ve got plans for you, baby.”

Clint whined in frustration before he hooked a leg around Phil’s middle and flipped them so he was on top. He missed the slick slide and stretch of Phil’s fingers, and as good as his tongue felt, Clint needed more—needed Phil inside him. He quickly straddled Phil’s hip, lined up his cock and sank down over Phil’s thick shaft with a loud groan.

“Fuck!” Phil grunted, hands shooting out to grip Clint by his hips, pressing hard enough to bruise. He surged up to meet Clint in a biting kiss before pulling Clint down onto his cock. “That what you’re looking for, babe?”

“Yes! Fuck yes! Oh god, Phil,” Clint gasped out in pleasure, feeling the electricity shoot from his core as the thrusts hit his prostate. “Oh fuck! There. Right there. Give it to me, god!”

Phil growled, gripping Clint tightly and pistoning up as he dragged Clint down. “God, I’m so close. Only you make me lose my mind like this.”

Clint was so overwhelmed by the sensations of Phil pounding into him, he didn’t realize he was at the edge until he was tipping over. He came, shooting white ropes of come all over them both with a strained moan, before slumping over Phil. Phil thrust into him a couple more times and came with a strangled grunt, filling Clint with his seed, then melted back against the pillows.

For a long time all either of them could do was just pant into each other’s skin, their hands touching each other all over, until Clint was calm enough to heave himself off Phil’s cock and slump into bed next to him.

“Well.”

“Yeah.”

“Bathroom?”

“In a minute.”

Clint found himself chuckling, then laughing. He rolled over to lie half on top of Phil, fingers tangling in his chest hair. “I think we’ve outdone ourselves.”

“I believe so.”

“Turns out, you’re not only a security ninja but also a sex ninja,” Clint said, grinning like a loon.

Phil snorted.

“I love you,” Clint whispered into Phil’s neck, where he started nibbling at the tender skin.

“I love you too,” Phil replied, pulling Clint up into a kiss. “Now get into the bathroom before we’re stuck to the sheets.” And at Clint’s epic pout, he added, “I’ll make it worth your while?”

“We’ll see about that,” Clint quipped, rolling away from Phil before hopping off the bed. He wiggled his butt on his way to the bathroom. “You coming?”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me here: http://thisiswintermute.tumblr.com/


End file.
